The Phone Call
by S.Walden
Summary: Jyou calls Yamato in the middle of the night, just wanting to hear the voice of an old friend again. Sorato. Hints of past Jyoumato. One-shot.


The Phone Call

Summary: Jyou calls Yamato in the middle of the night, just wanting to hear the voice of an old friend again. Sorato. Hints of past Jyoumato.

A/N: Another headcanon based drabble that was inspired by 'Lips of an Angel' (I really need to get out of this Pandora addiction, it's leading to too many drabbles!). Jyou and Yamato find the only half-cure for their insomnia is hearing each other's voices. Sorato. Hints of Jyoumato.

A/N 2: Sorry for those who have been waiting for me to update! I am swamped with the holidays at my job, but come January I'll update regularly again. I want to thank you all for reading and hope you're all excited for _Tri._!

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><p>Yamato rolled over in his sleep, suddenly opening his eyes as the floor met his face. He managed to somewhat balance on his arms and his mind was spinning as he tried to remember where he was. At home. On his couch. After the usual bout of nightmares he only found comfort in the lumpy cushions of solitude and drifted away. Now, he was wondering what had woke him, because he had been out cold from exhaustion.<p>

His phone was buzzing on the table nearby and he sighed. As the bright screen lit up it made a beacon in the center of his living room. He couldn't read the name since the light was blinding him. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and looked at the time on the clock above the mantle: just past one. "Hello...?" Yamato mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Yamato...?"

"Jyou...?" the blonde breathed, squinting as the light from the street, shining through the blinds, finally made its way to his eyes. "Why are you calling here so late?"

"I..." The blonde could hear the other shift the reciever.

"Jyou, is everything okay?" Yamato pressed, glancing at the light turning on down the hall. If Sora knew he was on the phone this late, much less with someone he actually knew, they would be up fighting about it all night. Yamato couldn't remember the last time he had talked to friends or family, simply because his wife felt he needed to be giving the attention to the life he had created here, as if he had choice in the matter. He relaxed when he saw the light go off again.

"N-No, I just wanted to talk."

The blonde slumped back into the couch and glanced at the half done-in cigarette barely balancing itself in the full ashtray. He grabbed it and lit the remainder, put off by the sharp burnt taste as he wondered what Jyou was hiding. The man wouldn't call this late unless something was bothering him. A rattle to the other's voice was just further confirmation.

"Usually I'm the one calling you this late about some bullshit," Yamato laughed, breathing out the smoke. He _had_ promised not to in the house, but that long since went out the window, to Sora's annoyance. The blonde felt relief wash over him as the smoke left his lungs and he waited for his friend on the other end of the line to get to the point. He reflected on the times when they were children and Yamato found himself with not just a nightmare, but an outright terror, clutching the phone, begging the boy to come visit him.

"Yeah, I just needed someone to talk to."

"About?"

"Nothing... just to talk," Jyou whispered. "May as well ask... nightmares again? I had to call a few times before you would pick up."

The blonde exhaled once more, "Yeah. They're getting bloody violent now." The blonde laughed a little in his half awake state. "You sound like you had a bad dream, too...?" That was very unusual. Yamato last knew that Jyou wasn't much of a dreamer and slept like a stone.

Jyou gave a light chuckle. _Something like that..._ The man's vision was as blurry as his half awake counterpart's, the lenses sitting idly on the table. He was smiling, just hearing his heart's desire's voice made everything so much better. He glanced at the locks on the doors and windows again, feeling like a prisoner in his own home. "I'm living one, sometimes," he admitted finally.

Yamato coughed on the other end and Jyou could tell he had been smoking excessively as of late as the coughing fit lasted a minute. The thing gave the blonde a gravely feedback in his voice that made Jyou shiver. Finally, he replied, "I know exactly what you mean. Takeru and I stopped talking recently..."

"Again?" Jyou gave a light laugh. "What did you do now?"

"_She_'s in the hospital. Takeru wants me to go see her. I can't. You know I can't."

"I know."

"I can't," the blonde urged again, begging for Jyou to believe him in his younger brother's place.

Jyou cringed. The blonde's tone was so shallow. He was dead serious as he said those words. Jyou reflected on the fact that he was hiding his own shame and nearly cried when he remembered that there was no way they would allow one another to know each other's pain... they buried the fact something more was between them long ago, each not blissfully aware of the other's feelings, except for a few fleeting moments that summer.

"Bad day?" Jyou shrugged.

"All I did was fucking..." Yamato trailed off. _Fight. With her. In front of them. Again. I let my temper get the best of me. I'm pathetic. You would just tell me to relax, right?_ Jyou could just imagine the blonde sitting across from him, eyes distant, wanting to say more.

"Sounds like a fun day to me," Jyou joked, only hearing the other's voice and not his thoughts, although he could imagine what went on easily. They shared their self loathing, albiet in different ways.

"Fuck you," Yamato laughed, then coughed again.

"You were going to quit, weren't you?"

"I did. For six months... but..." Yamato's tone indicated he didn't give a damn. Jyou rolled his eyes: it was so like him.

"How are the kids?" Jyou asked.

"I wouldn't know," the blonde hissed. "I feel like I never see them even though we live under the same roof."

"...w-why?" Jyou whispered.

"I guess I'm just at work all the time..." Yamato sighed and then laughed, thinking of his father. "Fuck, I don't wanna be around anyone anyway..." _All I do is... get told I'm doing everything wrong. Like this phone call. I should have told you to go back to sleep, I should have told you I need rest, but you know that. Something must really be bothering you. God, I wish you would tell me. I can't stand to hear that creak in your voice..._

"Me either. The last thing I want to do is see anyone," Jyou breathed, pulling the covers around him. His mind and sight drifted to the wall behind him and his son who was sleeping in the room on the other side of said wall. There was an umbrella near him, ready to be used for defense at a moment's notice. _Please, don't come back here. Just stay away. Please, don't hurt Aiko..._

"You're worried about something. Care to spill?" Yamato urged. He didn't want to give in like he always did and admit to Jyou that his marriage was falling apart, so he directed the conversation away from himself. What little he had held onto all these years was becoming impossible to grasp. Yamato pictured the gun sitting in top of the bedroom closet and fought tears back.

"I just had a really bad date." Not a complete lie, Jyou figured. Then he made a loud squeak as his phone began to explode with texts in his hand. He quickly turned the vibration off and tried to regain his sanity once more. "Yamato..."

"What's going on? Someone call? I can hang up. It's probably more important."

"Don't talk like that..." Jyou whispered. "It's no one."

"...oh, so my identical twin is calling."

"Stop saying you're nothing, Yamato. I hate when you act angsty just because you don't want to talk about what's really bothering you, yet you want the comfort."

"Didn't realize shrinks made night calls," the blonde spat, finishing the cigarette. "Besides, _you_ called me. You're the one with the problem, not me."

"Stop. Please. I called... I...just..." Jyou huddled into himself and held back all urges to cry. He couldn't let Yamato hear the pain in his voice, the fear in his words. The blonde would rush right over, demanding to obliterate the source of the man's pain. Jyou recalled when Yamato had finally met Sho and left Jyou's father with a broken nose and a fractured wrist. Jyou couldn't help but smile. Yamato always did anything for his friends.

A shame Jyou didn't realize this extended to the blonde's marriage as well. The sole reason Yamato was trapped.

"Jyou?"

"Could you just tell me something?" Jyou urged, aching to hear something real, not some scripted lie. _Like you..._ he thought, listening to the pipes settle.

"Eh? What?" Yamato questioned. Silence answered him. "Jyou?"

"Everything's going to be okay, right?"

Yamato thought a moment. He wasn't the type to give false hope. Just as he was going to answer, Sora swayed into the hallway entrance, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Despite their misery, at least the girl held some beauty in her form through her transparent red nightgown.

"Yamato, you're out here again? Come back to bed."

The blonde cringed at the thought and tried to shake bad memories, bad dreams from his mind. "S-Sora, I'll come back to bed in a second."

"I have to do this every night, it seems. You're always out here on the couch. It can't be comfortable for you." Jyou listened on the other end of the line as Sora hesitated in the background. "Don't you like sleeping near someone you love?"

Yamato didn't answer and made an uncomfortable noise only Jyou could hear. At this, the late night caller grew worried, "Yamato?"

"Hmm? Did someone call you?" Sora questioned, hearing remnants of a voice fizzling into the air.

"No. Just a wrong number woke me up," Yamato chuckled. "Good thing, right? I mean, I should get back to bed and all..."

Jyou's voice escaped him as a shudder as the line went dead. He tossed the phone across the floor and sobbed into his knees, letting his hands fall loosely over his head.

Even in the dark, Yamato could see his wife's suspicious expression. "Come back to bed," she demanded, realizing the sarcasm in her husband's statement.

"Not right now."

Sora huffed as if she had expected such an answer. Yamato thought he heard her mumble _sicko_ as she turned back down the hall. "Goodnight, Yamato," she sighed, her steps heavy as she left.

"Goodnight, Sora..." the husband whispered, "I'm sorry... I can't tell you..."

"Brush your teeth if you're coming back to bed," she snapped from the end of the hall, breaking off his self-apology. "I can't stand that smell all over you."

Yamato flopped back onto the couch on his side, anger suddenly in him. They were back in the dance again. She critisized, he laughed it off. They were defending themselves from the impact of this fucking train wreck. Yamato noticed he was still clutching the phone in his hands when his grip started to make the plastic crack.

His mother's voice rang in his mind, telling him in her own twisted way how everything would be fine, and he kept telling himself to stop. Stop reminding himself, stop thinking about her, about then. Then, he could suddenly feel the blood under his nails and the heat of his hate in his chest building up like that night and let out a frustrated cry as he tossed the ashtray from the table, slamming it into the nearby wall where it shattered. He stared at the ashes on the carpet as he caught his breath. After having held it so long, he further held back sobs that died to get out. He couldn't let his family see his pain, especially Sora, who was depending on him...

Jyou kept reminding himself he had to be strong. If Aiko saw how scared he was, the boy would surely fret. Still, Jyou took a page from his true love's playbook and huddled into the couch, unable to leave his guard post, unable to sleep. All those days of keeping the late watch in the Digital World as a kid were paying off now.

A flurry of knocks on his door made him cringe and he fumbled across the floor, the blanket tangling in his legs as he tried to regather his phone.

"Leave!" Jyou wailed. "I'll call the cops!" He huddled into the side of the furniture, wishing Yamato was there to protect him like he had so many times before. Jyou tried to think of better times, like falling from Shellmon's blast and being held in the boy's arms... he began to whisper to himself one of Yamato's songs, one Jyou had always suspected the blonde had written about him in those days, and suddenly things looked like they would get better. The rapping stopped and the sun began to rise and Jyou would eventually forget the phone call altogether as more pressing matters rose to the forefront of his life... but he would never forget the small comfort he took in hearing his friend's voice again.


End file.
